


The Muted Storm

by Murnu



Category: Voltron - All Media Types
Genre: AU - Espanol Only Lance, Lance just speaks Spanish because this was originally made in that class, Spanish speaking Lance, There may have been misunderstandings, by an native english speaker, canon has been yeeted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murnu/pseuds/Murnu
Summary: There may have been some misunderstanding made because this was not supposed to happen at all. Lance was not suppose to be in space with people he couldn’t understand or vise versa, he had just wanted to view stars in the desert not get kidnapped by crazy lions and aliens!Now its led to this, an invasion on sleepy times becoming something more due to misunderstanding between the Blue Paladin and the Galran soldiers who don’t even know who Lance really is. This is just terrible now.





	1. The Beginning of Something Stranger than Sleep Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to begin with the fact that Canon and all other such things have been yeeted out the gosh darn window and into a burning garbage disposal.  
> and that I made minor revisements on this.

 Warning: ¡¡¡a lot of Spanish ahead!!!!

  
The nightmares were not uncommon for him nor was that he was heavy sleeper every so often. What was uncommon was that Lance McClain was the first to be woken up by the sounds of an intruder in the castle. Out of everyone else, he always thought that Shiro would be alert to the first sign of danger.

  
So it was with great terror that Lance got up from his torn and battered bed with a soft baby blue blanket wrapped around his lean frame as though it were an unclasped cloak. Peeking out from his bedroom door, Lance could see ten to fourteen different Galra soldiers lurking in the hallways debating on their next move - none too quietly, let alone remotely discreet.  
  
  
With his sleep addled mind, Lance was obviously unable to properly process the information of the enemy lurking in his hall/chambers/section of the castle. The only part of actual information that had passed through his addled mind was that some unwanted guests were there and he needed to know why. 

Even though it should’ve been obvious, he’ll think soon after he’s more aware and understanding of reality.  
  
  
“¿Por qué estás aquí?”  
  
  
All the Galra heads might as well had whiplash from how fast they turned to face him in union. All had the expression of wary curiosity. The apparent leader of the large number of unwanted guests approached him with none too little caution, considering that he’s a McClain not that the Galra know that of course. The galra leader’s ears flickered back and forward like that of a kitten that doesn’t know what it wants, making Lance tempted to gush and pet them because apparently he forgot he was in s p a c e . Eventually, the ears had evened out to settle on neutral as the leader’s stance became more confident.

  
The smug ‘I-am-better-than-all-you-peasants’ air was apparent in his features when he stood in front of Lance’s doorway. Lance frowned at him.  
  
  
“Who are you? Some form of deceptive defense for your masters - the Paladins of Voltron?” The leader had gruffly poked at him, or tried to since Lance backed away from the Galra slightly.  
  
  
“¿De qué estás hablando?” The human questioned meekly, watching the others behind the head Galra anxiously wait for their leader to return to the group as they stood there trying to be menacing. Might’ve worked if he wasn’t so dead tired from the recurring nightmares - space-mare - yes, space-mares would be the correct term for that wouldn't it? Since, you know, S P A C E .  
  
  
The leader pinched his forehead, grumbling about at how bad their luck was to find what could only be the only foreigner in the whole ship. His ears were pinned back in agitation as he walked back to the group, speaking in low tones to the others.

  
Lance had decided then it was high time to go back to his nest of blankets that faithfully rested on top of his torn mattress, ranging from bright powered blue to the darkest shades found in Earth's great, deep seas. Only one solemn pillow laid there though it did move quite often enough for his liking. He was still quite glad to spare some time with sleep.  
  
  
¨

  
A plain knock was what woke him this time.

  
Strike two.

  
He was exhausted even more than he was before on the first night. Might’ve well had taken down a whole garrison of warriors from how he felt. The weariness in his bones made it more difficult to move as freely as he was used to. Slowly yet surely, Lance made his way to the door.  
  
  
Upon opening it, he was greeted with another Galra standing in front his door. This one was more regal looking than the first but no less dangerous was his aura. The Galra glared at him as if a mere human, who only wanted to have a peaceful sleep, was the root of all his burdens in life.

  
“Speak,” the galra commanded as if he had been given the right to order a McClain around like a common thug. Well, think again, puto.

  
Lance slammed the door in that galra’s face and made his way back to bed. The knocking came back, insisting on being answered rather than left well enough alone like a decent door is to be.

  
Lance pushed his face into the pillow as if that would stop the infernal knocking of the door. “Vete. ¡Algunas personas quieren dormir, idiota!”

¨

  
The first thing that registered in his mind on the third night was that the knocking had stopped coming back at an unholy hour. The second being that he actually felt well rested for once, which was still sort of weird. With hazy, sleep-filled eyes, Lance stumbled his way into the bathroom to revert back to his natural gorgeousness in only half an hour's time.

  
It was now with much energized vigor that Lance emerged from the restroom, swaggering his way to the door and start his endless quest for breakfast. Once he opened the door, though, he was greeted with the sight of two galras - Prince What’s-his-name and Commander He’s-supposed-to-be-dead.

  
Judging by their expressions, those Galra were just about as surprised as he was. Although for different reasons, he supposed, considering that they must’ve tried for an ambush or probably didn’t know that he was here.

  
“Puede hablar…?”

  
Lance nearly keeled over as he slammed the door into lockdown. No matter how fast it was done, he understood. It’s been ages since he heard his own tongue in another’s voice. He was desperate to hear it once more or even forevermore.

  
“No entiendo. ¿Repite eso por favor?” He asked nervously biting down onto his thumb. Waiting anxiously for a response, Lance slid down to the bottom of the door. Hating himself for acting so desperately for something so small from his enemies, he still felt the incurable need to hear it again. “Por favor, solo déjame ... déjame escuchar de nuevo. Quiero escuchar mi idioma de nuevo.”

  
“Como desees, extraño.” The velvety soft voice responded. Most likely from Prince What’s-His-Name, Sendak had - has - a more gravelly voice. “¿Puedo preguntar cómo te llaman?”  
  
  
Lance’s mouth went dry as if it was now the Sahara Desert (minus the rare towns that could be found there because his stomach was /still/ trying to eat itself - the silly thing). A name, he would’ve gave them anything except that. He couldn’t very well lie to them as they’ve given him what he wanted with little hesitance. Maybe he could just - “Charles” - bend it to his benefit.

  
“Charles?”

  
“Si, señor. Me llamo Charles.”

  
There was a hesitant knocking on the metallic door once more.

  
Lance gave a confused hum. “Si, señor?”

  
“¿Podrías abrir la puerta para que podamos hablar?” A unfamiliar voice gruffly questioned.

  
Lance shook his head violently. Speaking in low urgent tones, “No puedo ... El Paladín Rojo dijo que se volvería violento conmigo si abría la puerta a cualquier extraño.” Which was not untrue. Keith did say that he would beat him up if he did allow anyone into his bedroom that wasn’t considered their allies.

  
There was only silence from the other side as if the ones who spoke were put on mute. Great, way to go Lance. Scaring away the only other species that would speak his mother tongue with him that he had the pleasure of meeting. Possibly the only one in the entire universe. His tears may as well be flowing down as twin rivers to stain his face, instead of being tucked away in his eyes. A second later, there was a knock on the door snatching his attention away from his own discontent thoughts.

  
“Are you currently wounded?”

  
Lance startled. “Que?”

  
An exasperated sigh was heard. “¿Estás herido actualmente?”

  
“Asi-asi.”

  
The gruff one of the two growled, “That isn’t what he asked, Charles.”

  
He waited a while in silence, unable to fully translate what the Galran had said without help of his coat, this time it was he who was the one to knock the door. “Debo descansar, no sea que me caiga aquí. Despedida.”

  
Another two “Despedida,” was echoed from the other side as Lance lobbed himself over to his nest with a dull thump.

  
¨  
  
  
Dull creaks seep into his sleep filled mind, invading his sense of safety with its unknown. A low, soft hum lulled him softly back to his dreamland as Lance dreamed strong arms raising him up from his nest with a gentle sort of gruffness that could never be. Shampooed fur that smelled of sweet alliberris close to him while a thin hand brushed away his hair from his closed eyes. This would never be yet that doesn’t mean he won’t ever be free to have his alliberris once again.  
  
  
Muddied voices spoke in warm tones and some, he could hear, shouted with a rain of sleeted cries. The cold that ran through him was almost enough to wake Lance up alone if it wasn’t for the constant murmuring near him, consoling him. Warm arms encompassed his form, shielding him from the apparent explosions all around them.

  
“Wake up, please. Charles, you need to wake up. Dear War Spirits, where is the cursed translator, S------”  
  
  
¨  
  
  
Hello, Darkness. My old friend. “Charles?”

  
I’ve come to speak with you again. “Hello?”

  
'Cause a voice softly- “He’s been hit!”

  
Speaking- “Get a medic!”

  
Left its seeds while I was\- “TAKE COVER!”

  
Dreaming- “His body’s going into shock, sir.”

  
And a vision- “Sendak, cover us!”

  
That was planted- “They’re here…”

  
In my brain- “Hurry, the paladins are almost upon us!”

  
Still remains- “Hold on just a little longer, Charles…”

  
Within- “Beginning emergency take off.”

  
The sound - “Put him under in the pod.”  
  
  
Of silence.

  
¨

  
Lance regretted many of his actions over the course of his lifetime yet none as much as when he opened his eyes in a suddenly bright room. Curling up into a sad little fetal position would’ve sounded quite nice if it not for the restraints on both his ankles and wrists. With a testing pull, Lance tugged up his wrists only to have them fall after lifting up from the cool table by a few centimeters. About five if he had to fancy a estimation.

  
There was also the strange fact that he was in an upright position inside a glowing opaque casing. A healing pod? Why was he in here, there was no-

Suddenly, he remembered those strange dreams he had in a rapid sessions while he had previously slept. Shiro’s roar of outrage as the sounds of a fight continued, Hunk was crying out his name, even Keith was calling for him. All the while there was the overlap of familiar voices speaking above his prone form with strong arms holding him almost protectively.  
  
  
Just where was he now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited October 28, 2018


	2. I, The WHat? MY COMFY COUCH!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance meet a lying galran prince who shall not be named because he will LIE to your FACE. Your beautiful FACE has been hurt by these LIES. You also find your beloved couch again but may never sit on it’s comfy seating ever again.

  
Outside of the pod, there were two galra men worrying on a white plush couch, which was somehow imported from the human’s quarters before they stole him away. Ironically it was only when Sendak took his first step into the distressed room moments after tearing off the door with his mechanical arm, not when the soldiers were carrying out the couch with all of their ruckus. Then it became a complete melt down once Prince Lotor had made contact with Charles' sleeping form from the place that may have once been known as a bed and was then a nesting area. From then on, it was a race against the Paladins to return to their ship with their newest member.

The task itself was a simple one because Charles was in no place to fight them about the small fraction of information that he may not have been allowed to leave that room on pain of a beating. Same as he would've gotten if he had let them in yet now, just staring at the dark fuchsia glass of the healing pod, was the hardest part by far of this task. The Paladins were just fodder in comparison of this - this were they could only wait; where warriors could only be twiddling their thumbs in impatience.

How were they supposed to help like this?

Practically no creature in all the galaxies fully understood the human earthling biology enough to help - most didn’t even know the species existed…they could only pray that what they do is right and safe enough to be used on the internal wounds that Charles had obtained in their escape. All led to this moment, especially when the human had to be forced into cyrosleep.

The screams that escaped his dreams would haunt them in their memories for some time. Hope was their only weapon against this peril, and let me tell you, hope didn't come in spades 'round here.

They didn't wish for forgiveness for what they've done yet they did. Begging to amend their mistakes armed with the only ways they knew how.

They regretted and hurt yet they were galras made of stoic hate. It was their fate to be so and not. Their kind was cursed yet blessed by their deities. This was the fate chosen by the ones before them. Unable to fight this tide, they've become tyrants in response. This was the chosen path.

∂

Lance was pretty sure he had good ground to freak out now, especially since he was alone in this pod. The same pod that was providing stale oxygen and exporting all of the carbon dioxide so that he wouldn't immediately die from oxygen deprivation. That along with the fact the fact that his kidnappers actually shoved him into the pod, if his aching back ever told him anything, then it must mean that they wanted him alive - right?

He wished he had his blanket right now. He didn't like this new feeling of restrain that was presented to him at the moment. Right now, he didn’t want to be grown - didn't want to be there - he just wanted to go home. Back to the seas where he belonged with his kin, not in the skies.

He wanted his coat. His blanket? Where was it? He needed it!

“¡¿Dónde?! ¡Dónde está!” He shouted. “¿Dónde está mi abrigo de piel?”

The pod casing opened up to reveal the face of Lotor. The galran prince grinned at him with his teeth bared, which to Lance only showed him one thing - predator. Lance tried to shrink back in the rare moment of self perseverance before he once again realized that he didn’t have any where else to hide away in.

“Cálmate, Charles. Estás bien ahora.” The prince reassured softly as he began to undo the strap holding him down. “El Paladín Rojo no puede mantenerte encerrado ahora.”

What? Keep him locked - looking back he now saw the error of his sleep minded ways. He should’ve:

A. Specified that they were friends and not prisoner/captor type of deal  
B. Not have spoken to the Galrans in the first place  
C. Alerted the others that the Galrans have been invading the castle like lost guppies for the last three nights in a row

Dern it, brain why have you done this to me? I just wanted to sleep and now instead I get Galran commanders and a prince, where is the love?

“¿Charles?” The prince grew concerned.

Better off playing this off with plan F: Foreigner in strange land that knows nothing of the country. It always worked before on earth with Hunk, why shouldn’t it now?

“Sí, señor…” Lance trailed off with a questionable hum. Que act TDT: Time to play Dumb Tourist.

Apprehension dawned on the Galran’s face. He began to pore out volumes of anxiety, not something you’d see with the actual prince of his enemies. But oh well…

“Mi nombre es Lotor. Soy el de los líderes de los ejércitos galran.” The purple liar lies through his perfectly white lying teeth. _Boy_ , Lance thought to himself, _if I wasn’t trying to fool you right now, I would call you out on this crap load of bullsh*t right now._

“Ejércitos? Um ... no importa, ¿podría volver a salir ahora?” Lance asks in an attempt to beguile the prince who lies to his FACE into allowing him to get close enough to mess him up with enough time of course. Can’t do it right away but STILL to MESS up this lying pretty, little - okay, tall - piece of work.

The galra seemed to think on this for a few seconds before turning around and leaving him restrained in the open pod. Afterword he began to hear raised voices in English, not his best subject but he can speak creole just fine which just isn’t fair, and looks around in his limited view to find where they were coming from before he actually realized an important detail that he had missed.

The Galra stole his comfiest couch for their healing rooms. Those folladores… they will pay for this.

  
…

  
..

  
.

  
Once he figures our how to get it back to the Allura’s Castle with him again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lolz. I love this Lance so much ;) will never regret this anytime soon. And thank you two for the reviews!! You know who and what you are - the BEST.  
> revisments on chapters 1 and 2 on June 17th, 2019


End file.
